Roboute Guilliman: Lord of Ultramar

by David Annandale

  'Perhaps heading for other combat zones. They know these tunnels well, after all.'

  'Chapter Master,' said Loxias. 'I have made contact. The rest of the Legion knows you're alive.'

  'Well done, brother. Are there orders?'

  ‘Lord Guilliman wants you to pull out.'

  'We would like nothing more. Is he aware of our situation?'

  'He is. I am attempting to find a path for you.'

  'Your sensors can reach this far?'

  'Hardly. But in conjunction with the explorator augury web of First Company we can guess better.' Loxias went quiet. His voice was grow­ing weaker. At each silence, Iasus wondered if no more would be said. He was about to call the Techmarine's name when Loxias spoke again. 'I have a possible route,' he said. 'Head south-east of your current position. A crevasse was opened during the rockslide.'

  'Can you be more precise?'

  ‘The tunnels are a maze here. Many have collapsed and the ground remains unstable. Getting an accurate reading of what is intact is beyond our means. The crevasse is a long one, though. If you keep to the heading, you should encounter it.'

  'All right. Thank you, brother. Courage and honour.'

  'Courage and honour, Chapter Master.'

  The remains of the 221st headed south-east. The route was broken. Tunnels crossed and twisted. They ended suddenly in heaps of fallen stone, and the Ultramarines doubled back. The sounds of the orks grew louder. The growls bounced and echoed, growing louder. These orks were closer, though there was no way to tell where they were or how many. They seemed to be an infestation, vermin filling the veins of Thoas.

  Iasus reached an intersection running east and west. He turned east. He saw orks a hundred feet down. They carried crude promethium torches to light their way. The space stank of fumes and greenskin musk. These orks were not just passing through to a battle. They had been in this sector a long time. They had some reason to wish to be deep below the surface.

  The orks saw the Ultramarines.

  'They're in our way,' Iasus said.

  Bolter fire slammed into the greenskins. The two forces raced towards each other. As Iasus plunged his power sword into the nearest ork, he wondered how long he and his Chapter would continue to move forwards. There would no longer be a question of holding the line.

  The Ultramarines would advance, or they would die.

  'Im listening,' Guilliman said to Hierax. He had his back to a large boulder. The Hand of Dominion punched an ork with such force the greenskin exploded, drenching the area with a spray of liquefied flesh and vaporised blood. He put shells through the chests of another three, leaving holes the size of his fist. The killing was automatic. He could steal a few seconds from the march forwards to hear what the captain of the Destroyers had to say.

  'Your sector shows abnormally high radiation levels along with the most significant concentration of orks. The tunnel network also goes much deeper than we suspected, beyond our ability to scan. Deduction - the source of the radiation is also the lure for the orks. The network, furthermore, is a former military installation. Theoretical - there is a large cache of weapons beneath the surface near your location.'

  'What is your practical, captain?'

  'Deployment of the Second Destroyers to find and secure the weapons, while intervening on behalf of our Chapter Master.'

  'Agreed,' Guilliman said. He could almost hear Hierax's look of surprise through the vox. 'Deploy via drop pod to the coordinates Habron will supply. Wait for my authorisation before descending into the complex.'

  'By your command', Hierax said, and signed off.

  Why have you authorised this? Guilliman asked himself. He turned and punched the boulder behind him. The explosion hurled large, jagged pieces of shrapnel in all directions, impaling and crushing more orks. He moved into the space he had opened up, then headed north again, marching in lock step once more with the Invictarii.

  I authorised the deployment because reason calls for it, he thought. A fresh company will reinforce our efforts and secure the survival of the rest of the Twenty-second Chapter. I authorised it because Hierax specifically referred to his Chapter Master. I authorised it because Hierax's proposed mission is one of recovery, not annihilation. I authorised it because the captain of the Second Destroyers is capable of reflection. His deductions are sound. He has theorised well. I authorised the deployment because it was rational and needful.

  Ork bullets thudded against his armour from behind. He turned to see that a mob of the beasts had made a concerted charge and overwhelmed the legionaries at his rear. Two lay still. Three others were fighting for their lives, being borne down by the blows from heavy chainaxes. He fired into the attackers and headed back. He drove the power gauntlet into the ground just before he reached the struggle. The ground bucked. Debris flew. The ripple through the earth knocked the orks off-balance. That was enough for the legionaries to rise and enact their vengeance.

  Why did you authorise Hierax? Guilliman thought again. He was not satisfied with his answers, though they were correct and true. He marched up the slope once more, shooting into the green tide.

  I authorised it because of a hunch, he admitted.

  He thought Hierax was right. He did not know what weapons they would find, yet already he suspected they would be foul. If that were true, the Destroyers' expertise would be useful.

  But why?

  There was a deeper instinct. A suspicion that he refused to name. He sensed it at the back of his mind, lurking at the edge of consciousness, threatening to form out of the fog of half-thoughts and demand to be articulated. He turned away from it. The suspicion was unprofitable. It served no purpose. It never would unless it became a reality. Until then, his conscious reasons for deploying the Second Destroyers were enough. Relentless, the suspicion pounded at the wall he erected. It called to him from the other side. It demanded to be heard.

  You will not like what waits below.

  That war is a means, not an end, is a harmful truism. Only the most consciously perverse have ever maintained that war was their end. Even then, the degree to which they believe their assertion is debatable. There were moments when I thought Gallan might not have any purpose beyond the destruction he caused. The collapse of order in the streets of Macragge Civitas did, at first glance, provide evidence of conflict for its own sake. But a dispassionate examination of Gallan's actions reveals the opposite. Though his tactics were ill-advised, governed far more by anger than by analysis of any rigour, they still had a clear purpose - the suppression of opposition to his regime, and the elimination of even the desire to oppose him. So it is with all warriors. War has a purpose.

  Yet a still deeper examination reveals the very dangerous fallacy shored up by this logic. Gallan had a goal, but the effect of his tactics far exceeded what was intended, and ultimately worked against that goal. He created a situation that, had it been permitted to continue, would have engendered perpetual violence. It would have been necessary for him to maintain the rule of terror and violence to eliminate opposition whether such opposition existed or not.

  This, then, is the great risk of war. Its power is so great, it can easily become self-sustaining. The stated ends become rationalisations,in effect the means to the goal of endless war. The prospect of the imminent conclusion to my Father's Great Crusade fills some of my brothers with melancholy. I understand and, to a degree, share in this reaction. But I know enough to be wary of it. It gives me a greater, more profound pleasure to contemplate the fact that, our work done, we will have gifted humanity with a true end to war.

  - Guilliman, Reflections: Third Fragment, xxxii

  Eight

  SONS AND DESTROYERS • PRECISION • THE LAST DESCENT

  As Guilliman's march moved north, the gunships moved their strafing runs to the south. A barrier of fire rose between the Ultramarines and the pyramid. The tide had turned completely now. The orks emerging from the tunnels no longer streamed towards the pyramid. Many still came from that s
tructure, and ran straight into the Thunderhawks' fire. The artillery barrage from Guilliman's long-range guns was now aimed at the base of the exposed peak, hitting the orks as they swarmed out of the tunnels.

  Gage voxed, 'Is it my imagination or are we finally thinning their numbers?'

  'I think we are,' Guilliman said. There were still thousands of orks. They covered the slope. But Gage was right. They did not appear to be reinforced by an inexhaustible resupply. The Ultramarines at last were killing the orks faster than the greenskins could summon reinforcements.

  The drop pods came down within a hundred yards of the targeted crevasse. They punched shallow craters in the rubble of the slide. They crushed and incinerated scores of orks clambering over the rocks to get to Guilliman's line. The hatches blew open, and the Destroyers entered the field. The mob of orks caught between the First Chapter's infantry and the 22nd Chapter's Destroyers survived less than five minutes. The two lines of Ultramarines advanced to meet each other through the bodies of the greenskins.

  When the last of the mob went down under a hail of shells, Guilliman looked at the legionaries before him. These too are sons, he reminded himself. He needed to. There was a distance between him and the Destroyers. They were a necessary unit, but they were an imperfect fit with his vision of the Ultramarines. Even their armour marked them as separate. It was black. The blue of the XIII Legion was present on their pauldrons and in a single vertical stripe down the centre of their helms, but almost nowhere else. Guilliman had noticed the same approach to colours in the Destroyers of Fulgrim and Corvus' Legions, as if they had more in common with members of the same specialisation than with their brother legionaries. It was an impression he did not want reinforced into a reality. This was why Guilliman had made Iasus Chapter Master of the 22nd. He would set a tone more in keeping with the other Chapters of the Legion.

  Many of the Destroyers wore raptor icons suspended from the belts at their waists. The birds of prey were another mark of difference. They were reminders that their bearers had come from Terra. The face of the Legion was changing, but far more slowly in the Second Destroyers.

  Hierax had brought the entire company, as far as Guilliman could tell, with the exception of the heavy support. One of the drop pods had even brought the Dreadnought Laevius. Guilliman had noticed that the ancient warrior had killed orks using only his power fist.

  What is your cannon armed with? he wondered.

  He saw many armaments that made him grimace with distaste.

  He knew, without asking, that the missiles of the rocket launchers were radiation weapons. This was the identity of the Destroyers. It was why they existed. He had not disbanded them. He had never banned their way of war. But he had removed them from the standard conduct of the wars of the XIII Legion. They were last resorts. They must be so, for they left poisoned ruin in their wake. They were the warriors of extinction and extermination.

  But the rad and bio-alchem weapons were holstered or slung over their backs. They had killed the orks with bolter fire. Guilliman saw, and appreciated the respect they showed him. They had come to do their duty, not push their agenda.

  Hierax walked ahead of his company. He removed his helmet and stood before Guilliman. 'We are ready to do what you need of us,' he said.

  'You are welcome to this field,' said Guilliman. 'And to the aid of your Chapter Master.' He looked at Hierax's bald, war-ravaged features, and saw the pride of duty that shone through them.

  'We are eager to join him,' Hierax said. He looked past Guilliman. 'Victory on this battlefield is close at hand, I see.'

  The legionaries of the First Chapter had established a perimeter on the south side of the crevasse. They were holding the orks back. There was no break in their fire. Nothing could approach from the south without being turned into bleeding meat. Hierax was right. The ranks of the orks had thinned noticeably in the last few minutes. They were scattered across the slope. They were still attacking, but they could not muster a concentrated charge. Very few managed to come near enough to require a legionary to use his blade instead of his bolter. Upslope, to the east, the stream of orks coming from the exposed tunnels had slowed to a trickle. The battle on this side of the pyramid was effectively over.

  Guilliman frowned. He knew how many he and his sons had killed. There were too few orks. 'Habron,' he voxed, 'what is the situation south of our position?'

  'The consolidations are successful. The other Chapters are beginning the process of extermination.’

  'So where have the orks gone?'

  'As some of the hordes withdraw, they also diminish in size’, Habron said 'So they're going back underground.'

  ‘Apparently’.

  Guilliman turned to Hierax. 'Your hypothesis is gathering credibility by the second. The orks are abandoning the field and returning to the tunnels. The surviving Twenty-second cannot be that powerful a lure. Something else is calling them.'

  Hierax glanced at the crevasse. 'If the withdrawal began when we took this location...'

  Guilliman nodded. 'They see that we intend to descend.'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'The orks are desperate to stop our move into the deep tunnels. Their prize is there, and of gigantic importance to them.'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'We shall do what they most fear.'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'My balls smell like lapping powder and gun oil.'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'Who gives a shit what orks think?'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'Are you listening to anything I'm saying?'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'You said gigantic importance, and I swear I heard gigantic penis.'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'I hear an echo in here.'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'This has practically turned into a shitty conversation.'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'You hang up first.'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'No, you hang up first.'

  'Theoretical,' Hierax said. 'No, you!'

  'Practical,' Guilliman responded. 'No, you!'

  The descent began a few minutes later. Guilliman took a third of his infantry below, leaving the Invictarii to command the rest and direct the final annihilation of the orks at the surface. Gage led the legionaries of the First Chapter. Guilliman marched with the Second Destroyers. He gave Hierax and his troops the honour of being at the front of the rescue of the battered 22nd Chapter. They would also know he was watching.

  They too are my sons.

  They must know this too, and all that comes with being of my blood. The sides of the crevasse were steep, but along its length, as it widened gradually, there was a fall of rubble creating a drop just gradual enough for the Ultramarines to use it as a path to the depths. Even Laevius could manoeuvre his ponderous bulk down, his power fist smashing larger boulders to dust along the way.

  'Have you pinpointed the position of the Twenty-second?' Guilliman asked Habron as the march began.

  'The signals still lack precision. My best estimate is that they are at a level approximately equal to halfway down the crevasse.'

  'Then we will enter the tunnels there, and trust to come within range of Captain Iasus' vox transmissions.'

  'He will be grateful for your swift arrival', Habron said.

  'That bad?'

  'Based on his last message, yes.'

  They annihilated the first ork contingent. But three junctions on, the greenskins stopped the 22nd's advance. Iasus had no idea how far the crevasse was from his Chapter's current position. It didn't matter. We aren't going any further. The junction was a tangle of narrow tunnels, heading off in half a dozen directions. The orks came out of all of them. Their snarls were expressions of absolute rage. There was no joy of battle now. Giants led the charge, orks so large they had to hunch forwards or scrape their skulls against the ceiling. They wielded chainaxes and cleavers so huge they chopped through walls. They tramped smaller orks in their rush to engage the Ultramarines. Bellowing, power
ful as a flesh Dreadnought, a monster charged at Iasus. He jumped back from the axe's swing. He pumped the ork full of mass-reactive shells. Blood jetted, drenching him. The beast kept coming. It brought its axe in again, low and from the side. There would be no evasion. Iasus swung his power sword at the weapon. He sliced through the chain and the edge of the blade. The whiplash of the chain spoiled the blow, tilting the blade. It hit him at an angle, the main force of the hit crushing instead of cutting. The axe smashed him against the side of the wall, gouged a chunk out of his armour and sank through his carapace and into his fused ribs. Bone cracked. His blood mixed with the ork's.

  The ork grunted and pulled the axe free. It raised the weapon over its head. Iasus shook off his stun and lunged upwards with his sword. The blade's energy seared the air as it plunged through flesh. Iasus drove it up beneath the ork's chin and out through its crown. Its jaw sagged. Its small, furious eyes went dim. Its arms trembled a moment longer as if the corpse sought to complete that final strike. Then the huge mass collapsed. Iasus withdrew the sword and stepped back. There was another giant brute behind the first. Others had forced their way past his right flank while he fought. They were working their way down the tunnel, pushing the Ultramarines back, dismembering them with colossal blows. They absorbed bolter shells as if they were hewn from the mountain itself. Burrus had lost his left hand. Cursing, he slashed at the ork with his chainsword. Behind him, still another monster had smashed a legionary's helmet and skull with a stone hammer that must have weighed half a tonne.

  'Back!' Iasus shouted. He threw himself right, away from the cleaver of his new attacker and put a burst of six shells through the forehead of Burrus' foe.

  'Twenty paces back and east!' They had passed a space where several walls had fallen, one knocking the next down, turning several adjoining tunnels into a large cavern. There was space there to form up and hit the orks with combined fire.